


True Love's Kiss

by GothicPrincessWitch



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Awkward Flirting, Bodyguard Romance, Fluff and Feels, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Kidnapping, M/M, Prince!Fenris, Red-Purple Hawke, Suicidal Thoughts, Torture, but also Slave!Fenris, rescue romance, rogue hawke - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-02
Updated: 2018-02-28
Packaged: 2019-03-12 12:35:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13547451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GothicPrincessWitch/pseuds/GothicPrincessWitch
Summary: Once upon a time, there was a knight and his prince. They were young and in love, but it was not to be, and they were tragically parted. Years later, Hawke is shown a mysterious vision which reveals that his prince is being held prisoner in an enchanted tower. True love conquers all, so they say, and Hawke vows to rescue his true love or die trying.





	1. Once Upon A Dream

**Author's Note:**

> As you can tell from the tags, this fic is going to delve into some pretty dark things, and there is going to be a lot of pain for the characters, but I assure you that there will be sweetness alongside the darkness, with all the lovely fluff, awkward flirting, and deep and intense friendships characteristic of my fics. 
> 
> Please note that this story does not take place in Thedas itself, but in an alternate universe which happens to have some of the same place names and characters as Thedas. Additionally, it is not a direct match up to any one specific fairy tale but draws from many fairy tales as inspiration, including Rapunzel, Sleeping Beauty, Snow White, Cinderella, among others. 
> 
> Special thank you to my very lovely friends who give me so much support and inspiration in my writing, particularly The-Tevinter-Biscuit, Sunlian, Archdemonblood, 9Lunarseas6, Hennigreygoose, and as always, my eternal love and thanks to my dear theoxfordcommando.

Once upon a time, in a tiny kingdom far, far away, there was a knight and his prince.

The prince and his loyal knight had snuck away together into the palace gardens. They could still overhear the sounds of merriment from the ongoing royal ball inside; and though they were well aware that they must soon return to their duties, for now the pair of teenaged boys lingered under the starlight, drinking in the comfort of each other's company and the fragrance of the surrounding jasmine blossoms.

A royal ball was a night of enchantment and wonder, but they had all the magic they could ever want in each and every look they exchanged.

Prince Leto slipped his fingers into Garrett's hand, and Garrett squeezed their hands together with a smile. Leto's cheeks turned pink and the only thought in Garrett's head was that nobody in the world could ever be as beautiful. Leto, with eyes like wide green jewels gleaming with intelligence and sharpness and joy, with black shoulder-length hair bound with a red ribbon, with a perfect curve to his full lips, must have been blessed by the Maker himself.

And Leto loved **him**.

A handsome prince who could have anyone he desired, but Leto chose him. Nothing in the world could have made Garrett happier. Right here and now, with the love of his life bathed in moonlight and holding his hand, Garrett felt awe-struck at how wonderful everything was.

"We don't have much more time," said Leto, with that dazzling smile which Garrett could spend forever staring at. "Seb can only cover for us for so long."

Garrett nodded. "Right. So we--"

"Yes. That is, if you still want?"

"Oh yes. Maker's breath, yes!"

"Oh, good."

There was a moment of shyness and nervous laughter shared between them, and then Leto pulled the red ribbon from his hair and wrapped it around Garrett's wrist, knotting it neatly and securely. He took a deep breath and declared, "I, Prince Leto, pledge myself to you, Ser Garrett Hawke."

Garrett thought his heart would nearly burst from happiness as he tied a band of red silk around Leto's wrist. "I am yours, my prince," he said almost breathlessly, "and I will marry you. I swear it by the Maker."

Leto's lips crashed against his as he pulled Garrett down for a kiss to seal their vow. Garrett's arms went around Leto's waist, pulling him closer, never wanting to let go, and his pulse was pounding so loudly that he could scarcely hear anything else.

 _I love you, I love you, I love you_ , hr repeated these words over and over in his head, never wanting this moment to end.

=====

With a groan, Hawke blinks sleep from his eyes as he awakens, cold and alone, an ache in his chest where his heart used to be.

He can hear Sebastian snoring softly in the top bunk when he climbs out of bed. Going to their tiny washroom, Hawke splashes cold water on his face to wake himself up further.

Nearly thirteen years later, and he's still having dreams of those happier times. It's pathetic. He knows it's pathetic and pointless to keep pining and dreaming after all this time, yet he can't help but wish...

Ah, but wishes never come true, do they? Hawke learned that lesson the hard way.

Nonetheless, it's with a kind of masochistic longing that he allows himself to think about the way things used to be while he bathes and dresses.

The sons of prominent noble families, Garrett Hawke and Sebastian Vael were raised to be knights in the service of the Crown Prince Leto. They'd grown up as very close friends, loyal and inseparable, and for Hawke and Leto, friendship turned into something more.

Leto was already betrothed, a political marriage arranged by the King and Queen, but the boys were eighteen and foolish enough to believe that their true love could defy everything. Sebastian was contriving a plan for his best friends to marry in secret, but their parents discovered the plot, and Hawke and Sebastian were shipped away, exiled to a foreign land in order to keep their "corrupting" influence away from the prince.

After they were sent away, the kingdom fell to attack and was ravaged, laid to waste, the royal family defeated and killed. Their own families and homes, everyone and everything they'd ever cared about, all of it was gone forever.

Hawke wasn't there to protect anyone. He wasn't there to save anyone. His siblings, his parents, the love of his life... He has never stopped blaming himself for their deaths.

He still doesn't know what he might have done if not for Sebastian. The two best friends have supported and taken care of each other ever since. They're all they've got left, after all. And Hawke has to keep getting up and going on every day, because otherwise, Seb will be all alone.

Hawke feels empty, though. Hollowed out. Sebastian is his only tether to living. Otherwise Hawke is just an empty shell putting on a smiling mask each day and pretending to be alive. Over-dramatic, perhaps, but it's how he feels.

And sometimes, on mornings like this, when he wakes up from dreams and the pain and heartbreak are excruciating all over again, Hawke wishes he'd died with Leto.

But once again, wishes don't come true.

=====

There's not much a pair of former knights, without titles, lands, or money, can do for a living besides fight, which is why when Hawke became acquainted with Varric Tethras, he acquired jobs for Hawke and Sebastian within the Red Iron Mercenary Company. A decade later, they're still working as sellswords (or sell-bows as the case may be, being archers).

It's not a terrible life. There are worse things they could be doing to make a living, after all, and at least Hawke is good at this.

The Red Iron Company requires its fighters to be in quality shape, and its headquarters retains several practice areas. Hawke and Sebastian often spar here in their spare time, staying strong, keeping sharp. Sebastian has a mean right hook which has been Hawke's undoing many times. As archers, however, the two of them spend most of their time here at the shooting range, honing their craft.

Hawke heads there this morning. It's the best place for him when he's feeling out of sorts and on the edge of despair like this. No matter how much his life has been torn apart, when Hawke has his sturdy bow in his hand, when he runs his fingers over the fletching and nocks an arrow to the string, drawing it back, he knows that this is right for him. This is what he's good at. The only thing he's good at.

Sebastian soon joins him to practice as well. Of the two archers, Sebastian is the stronger, favoring a longbow. His shots are more powerful, more damaging, and they go further, penetrating deeper through enemy armor or a straw-stuffed practice target.

Hawke's skillset lies in speed and precision. He pinpoints his target's weakness, the chinks in their armor, their vulnerable points, and he moves swiftly and agilely, hitting all the vital spots in succession in order to take down his opponent. In battle, Hawke is the better killer, but for a standing target like this, Sebastian is superior.

It had been quite a marvel when they were both sixteen and entered into a royal tourney, and Hawke bested Sebastian in the archery contest by a mere hairsbreadth. Eyes shining, Leto was cheering for him, and he'd presented the prize to his prince, kneeling before him on the tournament dirt, and--

_Stop. Stop thinking about that, Garrett Hawke._

He bares his teeth as he looses another arrow, angry at the past, angry with himself. The shot misses the bullseye by an inch, and Hawke growls, cursing to himself. Or at himself.

To his side, Sebastian lowers his bow and turns to Hawke with a look of concern. "Would you like to talk about what it is that's bothering you?" Sebastian asks kindly.

Seb is always kind. It's something Hawke both appreciates and doesn't understand at the same time. After everything they've lost, everything they've been through, Hawke learned that to survive in a harsh world, he must be harsh himself; whereas Sebastian took in the cruelties of the world and decided to meet them with compassion, understanding, and hope. Sebastian is a good man, a far better man than Hawke, and the only source of goodness in Hawke's life.

Sebastian's friendship is invaluable to Hawke, and Hawke would die for him in a heartbeat.

"Oh, you know, the usual," Hawke answers him with feigned lightness. He takes aim again and fires with better accuracy this time.

"Garrett..." Seb frowns, which is a shame, really, for he's a handsome man whose features look much better when he's smiling.

"Hawke, it's been twelve years. This isn't healthy for you," says their friend and fellow mercenary, Varric Tethras, who's presently working behind them to clean and oil the parts of his beloved crossbow Bianca.

"Pushing him isn't going to help him," says Sebastian in a matter-of-fact manner. "He needs support to be able to move on when he's ready, not when he's forced to."

"Dwelling almost every day on his dead lover from a decade ago isn't helping him, and you shouldn't encourage him like this," Varric retorts.

"Please do continue talking about me like I'm not here," Hawke mutters sarcastically.

Varric lets loose a weary sigh. "Hawke, buddy, all I'm saying is that it wouldn't kill you to live a little. Isabela's coming back into town, and I remember how you two hit it off. I can set something up for you."

Taking a deep breath, Hawke tries to smother his growing irritation. "No, thank you," he grumbles. "Isabela is fun and all, but she's looking for something with no strings attached, and I want..."

 _Leto,_ is the unspoken word, but the thought still brings forth a deep hurt in his chest. He lowers his bow and grits his teeth against the pain.

Seb gives him a sad, sympathetic smile.

"You want the fairy tale, with the handsome Prince Charming to sweep you off your feet, with the glass slipper and the happy ending," says Varric dryly.

Hawke forces a smile. "I don't know about the glass slipper. It might make my ankles look bad," he quips, hoping the joke will cause his friends to drop the subject.

Setting Bianca down, Varric gives Hawke a stern look. "This isn't a story, Hawke. It's life, and you've been hurting too long. It's time to start healing."

Hawke gathers up his arrows and starts shoving them back into his quiver. "That's the thing, Varric: a cut that's too deep can't heal. You just bleed out eventually."

"You can still heal, Hawke," Sebastian insists softly. "We've made it this far together. Don't give up now."

Hawke claps Seb on the shoulder and leaves without another word. Once he's alone, he presses his fingertips to the old, worn, red silk ribbon woven into the laces of the leather vambrace upon his left forearm.

The truth is that he will never be able to love anyone as much as he loved Leto, and there is no moving on from that.

=====

Several days later, Hawke is on a mercenary job. He's been hired as an extra guard for the hunting trip of some Orlesian fop. It's an annoying job, of course, but it's good money. Besides, wolves are known to prowl these wood. As a bowman, Hawke is an asset to the hunting party and can keep any approaching wolves at bay with a warning shot.

He doesn't know why anyone with that kind of money would want to waste their time running after foxes or rabbits or whatever it is the hounds are chasing, but he's not being paid to know. His job is to keep an eye out for wolves or brigands.

Truth be told, he wouldn't mind some action. Anything to take his mind off the dreams, which have become so much more vivid as of late. Sebastian's grown more worried about him, and Hawke hates that. He hates being a burden on his friend. At least out here in this dark forest he's useful for something.

Hawke is very capable at killing, after all.

It seems he might finally be able to put his one and only talent to use when several of the dogs halt in their tracks and start growling at something nearby. Hawke volunteers to investigate, and arrow nocked and ready, he heads into the underbrush off the path.

Huh. He must have gone further than he'd thought because now he can't hear or see any sign of his party.

Suddenly he hears a whimper of pain.

Turning toward the sound, Hawke finds a wolf, a large white wolf far bigger than wolves should be. Its front paw is caught in a trap, and it yowls again miserably.

Hawke's grip tightens on his weapon. He's a cold-blooded killer, and he should put this beast out of its misery.

But... But it's in pain, and the injury isn't fatal. If it were freed, it could most likely heal from this. This wolf is helpless and trapped, and... Hawke has to do something.

Lowering his bow and arrow to the ground, Hawke keeps his hands visible and slowly moves toward the wolf. "Easy now," he calls out in what he hopes is a soothing tone. "I'm not going to hurt you."

 _This is a terrible idea, Garrett Hawke, one of your worst yet,_ he tells himself, but there's a keen intelligence in the wolf's yellow eyes, so he hopes he's understood in some way.

"Please don't eat me," he cajoles as he crouches down, within easy reach of the wolf's jaws, and gets to work dismantling the metal trap. By some miracle, the wolf refrains from attacking him and doesn't struggle, which makes it easier for Hawke to free it. The wolf whimpers again as Hawke takes some bandages from the pouch at his belt and wraps the wolf's paw.

Feeling bolder and unusally pleased with himself for pulling this off, Hawke pets the wolf's fur like a dog's and coos, "What a good boy!"

Then suddenly, there's a flash of white light, and the wolf transforms into a very shapely woman, clad in burgundy-colored studded leather, with gleaming yellow eyes and waves of white hair cascading down her back.

"Wrong on both accounts," says the witch with a cackle, her voice low and deep and sending shudders through Hawke.

Hawke's eyes flick toward his bow, lying on the ground out of his reach, but the woman crooks an uninjured finger under his chin, and instantly he's held immobile by some spell.

_Fuck! This is bad. This is really bad._

"Well, well, what have we here," says the Witch of the Wilds. "A knight errant offering mercy to a creature in need."

Hawke finds he can speak, and feeling suspicious as hell, he snaps, "What do you want from me?"

The witch takes his wrist and turns it, inspecting the red ribbon laced into the leather. "You have an oath unfulfilled, Ser Knight," she replies, her yellow eyes flicking back to his face. "You passed my test, so in return I shall help you keep your oath."

Ire stirs within Hawke. He isn't certain how this witch knows what she knows -- _through witchy ways, probably_ \-- but he absolutely does not appreciate being mocked like this.

"I can't exactly marry a dead man," he retorts.

"That's where you're wrong."

Hawke rolls his eyes. "You're going to help me marry a rotten corpse, is that it? Uh, no thank you," he says, his voice dripping with bitter sarcasm.

"No," replies the witch, with a smug I-know-something-you-don't-know smile upon her lips. "Your prince is alive."

In that moment, the whole world stops for Hawke. Every sound in the forest vanishes. He forgets to breathe. Even his heart stops beating.

"What?"

"The prince never died."

"But-- No. No, that can't be. The Tevinters slaughtered everyone at the palace. I went back there and I saw the ashes from the mass pyre. He could not have survived that!" Now his heart is racing too fast, more anger and pain welling within him. This is too cruel to endure.

"He wasn't slain with the others," the witch explains. "He was taken away as a trophy by a powerful magister, and he still lives today."

Though paralyzed, it feels like the ground is crumbling away beneath Hawke, everything he knows shattering. He pictures Leto, beautiful, beloved Leto, being led away in chains and locked in a lightless dungeon, desperate for his Garrett to come rescue him. How many years did he wait for him before giving up? While Hawke left him there to rot.

"It can't be true..." Hawke chokes back an unbidden sob as he speaks these words. Knowing he abandoned his lover to a fate like this is so much worse than having abandoned him to die.

"Come." The witch stands and glides away deeper into the forest. Bespelled as he is, Hawke has no choice but to follow. She takes him to some kind of strange... structure. It looks like a mirror, but there's no reflection. When the witch touches the surface of the magic mirror, it ripples, and a vision appears.

There's a beautiful man, asleep and bound in chains. But it's him. It's Leto. His hair is shorter and white as snow, and there are white markings upon his skin; but Hawke knows that jawline. He recognizes those full lips, the bold brows, the long eyelashes. He knows every inch of that face, and Leto is older and changed somehow, but it's undoubtedly him.

For the first time in nearly thirteen years, Hawke is filled with hope.

"Leto," Hawke breathes his lovely name. He reaches out, transfixed, to touch the image on the glass, but it vanishes.

"Where is he?" he demands of the witch, his voice hardening again. "I need to go to him!"

She nods, appearing pleased. "He's being kept in a castle tower not too long of a journey from here."

His breathing catching in his chest, Hawke exclaims, "He's been locked in a tower all these years, and you're only just now telling me?!"

The witch replies, "Not years, but he is there currently, so now is your only chance. If you do not free him within the week, he will be lost to you forever."

"I won't fail. I swear it!"

She smiles again. "Wonderful."

=====

Sebastian and Varric are sharing supper when Hawke bursts into the apartment.

"Seb! Seb, he's alive! He's alive, and I'm going to save him! Come with me!" Hawke shouts, seizing his daggers and a spare quiver from a shelf.

Once they calm him down enough to stop rambling, Hawke tells them of what transpired, of everything the Witch of the Wilds told and showed him. He pulls out the map where she marked the tower's location and points to it emphatically.

"He's there, Seb. I won't leave him waiting any longer," Hawke insists.

Varric groans, "This is bullshit! It'll make an interesting story to write down, but come on, Hawke. This is ridiculous."

"Seb, please." Hawke's voice is a plea of desperation.

Sebastian stares thoughtfully at the map, at the tower's location.

"You're not actually buying into this delusion?" Varric asks him incredulously.

Taking Hawke's hand in his and squeezing it reassuringly, Sebastian nods. "I'll help you," he says. Then to Varric he adds, "If Prince Leto isn't there, then perhaps this venture will give Hawke closure at last, and if he is there, if he's truly been a prisoner all these years, then we owe it to him to help him."

Varric sighs in exasperation, while Hawke flashes Sebastian a grateful and relieved smile.

"Someone needs to babysit you two, so I guess I'm tagging along," Varric declares with an exaggerated, world-weary sigh.

They prepare for the journey, planning to leave at first light. As they pack, Hawke murmurs to Sebastian, "Thank you for doing this. It means everything to me."

Sebastian smiles. "You're my brother, Garrett. I'd follow you to the end of the world," he says. Then his bright blue eyes soften, turning sad. "I loved him too. Not in the same way you did, but I loved him very much. If he's out there, then we'll get him back."

Hawke pulls out the map again and gently presses his fingertip to the mark for the tower where his sleeping prince lies, as if by some magic he could reach through the paper to actual tower, to Leto. He silently swears to himself that he will not abandon his prince again.

True love conquers all, so they say, and Hawke is coming to rescue his true love no matter what it takes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because nothing bad ever comes from encountering an Eluvian in the woods...


	2. Waking Nightmare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings on this chapter for rape, torture, and abuse, both physical and emotional. 
> 
> These scenes were why I was not originally going to post this fic online, and when I did decide to go through with sharing it, I didn’t want to cut this chapter because it’s important to establish Fenris’s agency and mental and emotional states within the narrative, as well as why he will act and react the way he does in future scenes. His past is part of what shapes who he is as a character, whether in canon or in AU. Please note that I write and post this chapter with absolutely no intentions of romanticizing or glorifying these things or of using them as fetish fodder. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who’s read, given kudos, and commented! ❤️

Once upon a time, there was a slave whose hands were covered in red.

Dark, sticky, red blood coated Fenris’s arms up to his elbows and fell off him in slow, viscous drips, but he barely registered that as he gaped in horror at what he’d done.

These people had been his friends. The only friends he’d ever had. They’d taken him in when he was wounded and on the verge of death. They’d nursed him back to health. They’d helped him and taken care of him. They’d defended him.

And because of him, their mangled corpses littered the ground, their chests ripped open and torn to pieces, and bleeding. So much blood pooling into the mud. So much blood drenched upon his lyrium-branded arms.

How could he? How could he do such a thing?

“Clean yourself up, pet. Now that this foolishness is over and done with, it’s time to return home,” Fenris heard his master say behind him, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. He couldn’t take his eyes off his dead friends.

“I didn’t want this. I didn’t want to do this,” Fenris mumbled, trying to give voice to the overwhelmingly intense feelings of regret and horror.

Danarius’s hands were on him then, squeezing his shoulder and carding through his hair in gestures of comfort (or possessiveness). “What you want is to please me, and you have. The wretched things deserved this end after trying to take you from me.”

Fenris pulled away, surprising both Danarius and himself, but he could not bear to be pet on the head and praised for _this_.

“No,” Fenris said. At first it’s a faint whisper, but no word had ever felt so right to speak, so he said it again, loudly and more forcefully. “ **No!”**

Danarius’s expression hardened, his eyes turning colder than ice, his lips pursed in displeasure. It was always a dangerous thing to vex his master, always with terrible consequences, yet at that moment, all Fenris could think about was his friends’ screams as he killed them.

He wanted this gone from his mind. He wanted to undo this in any way he could. He wanted to get as far away as possible from Danarius’s cruel countenance, from the pleased smile Danarius had when he’d ordered Fenris to rip his friends to pieces.

And so he ran. He ran as fast and as far as he could.

He didn’t run fast enough.

=====

Fenris is jolted awake by a sharp slap across his face.

“You were screaming again.” His master’s voice is cold and irritated, and Fenris flinches, anticipating the second blow, which strikes the other side of his face. “After all I do for you, after all this trouble I’m going through to take care of you, you can’t let me have even a few hours of sleep. You should be ashamed of what a spoiled, ill-mannered ingrate you are!”

During his master’s rebuke, Fenris scrambles to pull himself up to his knees, chains clinking from the movement, head bowed contritely and palms flat upon the floor, the posture of submission.

“I’m sorry, Master,” he says, the expected response, while keeping his eyes lowered. His voice quavers despite his efforts.

Danarius moves to grab Fenris’s leash and tugs it upward in order to raise Fenris’s head. He makes sure Fenris can see his displeased expression. Fenris recoils but is held in place by the leash.

“It pains me that you force my hand this way,” Danarius says with a tsk, tsk, and then he takes out his whip.

Fenris bites back a cry at the sting of the first lash on his back, but doesn’t succeed with the second. He scrunches his eyes shut and tries to withdraw his mind from the present, tries to be anywhere else to escape this pain.

Fenris is no stranger to pain, of course, but it used to be more bearable. His earliest memories are of nothing but pain and darkness — so much excruciating pain that at first, nothing of himself existed beyond it. Once Danarius’s ritual had ended, once his master had finished branding raw magic into his entire body, Fenris slowly found awareness.

He didn’t know anything. He didn’t know who he was, besides pain, but he had Danarius to dictate his purpose, his everything to him. For ten years, Fenris was a good and obedient little slave, until everything changed.

During one of Danarius’s travels abroad, there’d been an unexpected battle, and in the chaos, Fenris was badly injured and separated from his master. He’d been found by a family, who gave him succor, and his stay with them was truly an eye-opening experience. Never before had he known that affection could be shown without being a method of control. He’d never realized how powerful a feeling it is to make his own choices, even for little things. He’d never experienced this sense of dignity, this sense of himself beyond slavery.

It was too wonderful of a time, too good to be true, and far too brief, for soon Danarius came to claim his missing property. Fenris resisted, and that... had ended poorly.

How could he do such a thing? How could he _not?_ Obedience is his only purpose, as the cruel bite of the whip upon his back reminds him yet again. For all his life it had never occurred to Fenris that he didn’t want to obey, thoughtlessly and passively, until he wished he hadn’t. He’d tried to escape then, but he’d failed, and Danarius dragged him here, to this castle in the middle of an enchanted forest, to be disciplined then retrained.

His master has been nothing but displeased with Fenris, for now, as Danarius says repeatedly, he’s nothing but a broken toy, a tool no longer honed to its purpose. The increased punishments — the whippings, the beatings, the denial of food, the heavy shackles and collar cutting into his skin — have not served to return Fenris to the completely docile, subservient slave he used to be.

It would be easier to give in, to simply let go of what it was he felt when he was... not-a-slave. What is the word? _Free_. When he was free. Uncaged. Unchained. But no, Fenris cannot stop clinging to this new part of himself, even if he does not fully understand it.

Not that it matters, however, because Danarius had a plan to fix him. He’s preparing a ritual for some formidable magic, which will completely wipe Fenris’s mind and memory, and he’ll start over with a blank slate.

And everything that is Fenris will be gone forever.

But that will mean no more pain, no more fear, no more heartache, no more missing parts of himself, or so his master tells him. He will no longer wake from nightmares of what happened or from inexplicable dreams where he’s running towards a boy with reddish-brown hair whose face he cannot see.

That has to be better than this, kneeling naked on the floor in agony while blood seeps from the welts on his back.

Doesn’t it?

=====

Fenris is commanded to stay still, to refrain from moving a single muscle from where he kneels at his master’s feet, while Danarius sits and thumbs through several thick, leather-bound grimoires, making notes for the upcoming ritual. It’s a test to see if Fenris has learned his lesson, as Danarius puts it. He’s supposed to keep his eyes trained upon the floor, yet he dares to look up, peeking beneath his white bangs.

There’s a single window in the tower, and through it he can see the open sky, bright blue with enormous fluffy clouds. It’s beautiful. Fenris longs to go outside once again and feel the sun on his face.

He can see a bird soaring through that brilliant open sky. It’s too far away to tell, but he thinks it might be a falcon or perhaps a hawk. The sight fills Fenris with so deep a yearning that it makes his chest ache. He wishes he could spread wings and fly into the sky like this bird. Then he could fly far away from here, far away from his master, from the endless nightmare, from what’s coming...

Without thinking, he leans his head toward the window, straining to see the hawk as it flies further away, and his chains clatter from the movement. Immediately Fenris’s heart freezes, and he tastes bile in his mouth while Danarius slams his book closed and heaves a disappointed sigh. The silent admonition hangs in the air: how utterly worthless and useless Fenris has become to be so incapable of following through with a single order.

Danarius has him whipped again for the infraction.

=====

When his master takes him to bed that evening, the scabs upon Fenris’s back break open. He bleeds again, and it hurts, more than this usually hurts. Pressing his face into the sheets to smother his cry of pain, Fenris closes his eyes and once again withdraws his mind, imagining that bird from earlier, wishing again and again to fly away from here.

After finishing, Danarius shows him unexpected tenderness, with soothing murmurs of how pleased he is upon his lips as he carefully, painstakingly cleans away the blood and cum on Fenris’s skin.

“I’m going to miss you while I’m away,” Danarius says, in an almost rueful manner, his fingers petting Fenris’s hair.

He’ll be leaving tonight to acquire certain magical artifacts hidden deeper within the enchanted forest, which he will use to power his ritual for Fenris, who shall stay locked within this tower to prevent his escaping again. Danarius’s apprentice, Hadriana, will look after him.

Fenris is given a set of linen clothes to wear to sleep that night, a small reward for what little good behavior he showed today. After Fenris dresses, gritting his teeth as the material catches on the welts crisscrossing his back, his master leads him to the corner of the tower’s uppermost cell and fastens the end of his leash to a latch on the floor. Then Danarius replaces the shackles on Fenris’s wrists and ankles, checking that the locks are secure.

“Do behave while I’m away,” Danarius demands, a threatening undercurrent to his voice.

As his master exits, Fenris feels heavy layers of enchantment settling over him, making his drowsy, and his eyes slide closed. The spell will prevent him from walking (or running) out of the castle if he should somehow manage to break free of his chains. Fenris curls up on his side, since his back hurts too much to lie upon, and trembles as he thinks about what’s going to happen to him.

He doesn’t want to lose himself, Whatever this new sense of self he feels is. He doesn’t want to be this thing, this vessel any longer.

He wishes he were free.

If only wishes came true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You didn’t think rescuing him was going to be easy, did you?


	3. No Mercy

Once upon a time, in a kingdom far, far away, there was a boy who was the youngest of three sons.

Sebastian Vael’s parents doted on his older brothers, who could do no wrong in their eyes. Sebastian, on the other hand, they were less than pleased with. He was unplanned. Unwanted. An inconvenience. The son who kept getting in the way. His brothers’ behavior towards him quickly took after their parents’.

He tried to run away once, as a child. That didn’t work out very well for him. Afterward, when he was permitted to see his friends again, he spilled all of his feelings to Prince Leto.

Leto had taken him in his arms, hugged him tightly, and said, “We’re your brothers now, Garrett and I, and we’re going to take care of you forever. I promise.”

And Sebastian had looked at Leto with wide eyes -- _Leto, with his warm, loving smile, protective embrace, a gilded diadem upon his brow, and a radiant aura of grace and regality even at such a young age_ \-- and believed his promise. Then Sebastian swore silently to himself that he would always take care of his real brothers, Leto and Garrett, in return.

=====

Sebastian Vael jerks awake and immediately chides himself for having dozed off while on watch.

His fingers move to his weapons, and he scans the area surrounding their campsite for any potential threats. With a sigh of relief, he murmurs a prayer of thanks that they were not attacked while he slept.

The party has journeyed for three days, crossing into the perilous enchanted forest that morning, and they’ve been sleeping in shifts to guard against the dangers that prowl at night. Already they’ve encountered a few groups of giant venomous spiders and a particularly nasty Arcane Horror, all of which the three archers defeated while casually exchanging witty quips.

There’s a lightness in Hawke which Sebastian has not seen in a very long time, and while naturally he’s pleased to see Hawke come to life once more, he’s nonetheless filled with a great deal of concern. Hawke is pinning all of his hopes on this quest without really thinking this through. They don’t have a rescue plan or a plan for what happens if they succeed and bring their long-lost prince home. Hawke hasn’t thought about why the witch directed him here, if this could be some kind of trap or if she expects something out of this.

And he doesn’t seem to have thought at all about how much Leto must have changed. If their friend has truly been a captive for more than twelve years, then he undoubtedly cannot be the same light-hearted boy from their youth who cared more than anything for his friends and lover. Hawke is expecting some big, romantic reunion -- he’s counting on it, really.

Sebastian, on the other hand, is rather apprehensive of what’s to come. He does not wish to see his brother get hurt again. Not if he can help it.

=====

Sebastian checks the map again and wonders if it's somehow wrong. They should have reached the castle by now. Perhaps the witch marked the wrong spot for Hawke. Or perhaps the trees have moved themselves and rearranged the paths... These are all worrisome thoughts.

"I think we might be lost," he tells the others before replacing the map in his pack.

"Great," says Varric sarcastically.

Hawke shakes his head insistently. "We're going in the direction the witch said. We'll find him."

"If there's really an enchanted castle with a big tower in a clearing out here, then we should have come across some kind of sign of it by now," grumbles Varric, once again bemoaning the far-fetchedness of their quest.

Then, as the laws of irony would dictate, Varric steps out beyond the thick wall of overgrown trees and stumbles into this very clearing. He stops and stares, for it takes a moment to register what lies before him.

"Well, shit," Varric says. Then he turns and hurries the way he came. "Back into the forest!" he cries, shoving Hawke and Sebastian alongside him.

Sebastian's heart clenches with fear, but Hawke has a thrilled smile upon his face.

"Did you see that?" says Varric, wide-eyed.

"It's the castle!" exclaims Hawke in excitement. "We did it! We're here at last!"

"Yeah, I was referring more to the _big fucking dragon_ out front!"

"That proves Leto is here! Why would a dragon be guarding a castle if there weren't something or someone valuable inside?"

"Garrett, please, calm down. We must come up with a plan."

"Here's a plan for you, Choir Boy: we turn around, go home, and don't get eaten by a dragon! Sound good?"

"I _refuse_ to abandon him again!"

"I said, calm down!"

"What's going on here?" calls a new voice. In one fluid movement, Sebastian plucks an arrow from his quiver, nocks it to his bow, and draws it back, ready to fire, as he whirls around to face an armored sentry, who was clearly drawn by their less than successful attempt at a whispered conversation. The sentry has a blade in hand, and his eyes narrow suspiciously.

Beside Sebastian, Hawke draws one of his daggers but does not yet move to attack.

"Who are you? What are you doing here?" demands the sentry.

Varric opens his mouth to respond, probably with some long bullshit story, so Sebastian answers first. "We're here for the prince. If you stand aside and do not interfere, then we shall spare your life."

Hawke shoots him a glower, on the verge of objecting, when the sentry speaks.

"Prince? What prince?" he asks in confusion, before it seems to dawn on him. "Oh! You mean the magister's pet. It's locked inside right now. The magister won't be showing it off today--"

His words are cut off in a gurgle as an arrow pierces his neck. Blood gushes from the wound as Sebastian looses a second arrow, and the sentry falls dead upon the forest ground.

Taking deep breaths, Sebastian tries to force himself to calm down, to hold back the tempest of rage brewing within him. He rips his arrows out of the still bleeding corpse and then turns to Hawke, whose expression is like a thundercloud.

"Anyone who's hurt him deserves no mercy from me," Sebastian explains sharply, still seething about the way that bastard referred to Prince Leto.

"Agreed," Hawke all but growls.

"Agreed," adds Varric wryly. "Let's go get burnt by a dragon to save your friend."

=====

Hawke draws his hood over his head as he stealths around the forest edge to the other side of the castle. It's really too small to be called a castle. It's mostly just the tower, looming high into the sky.

Somewhere in this tower lies his prince.

 _I'm coming, Leto,_ Hawke thinks, wishing this thought could somehow reach him.

The castle has two gates, each guarded by a pair of sentries. Plus there's that dragon, huge and green-scaled with plumes of smoke rising from its nostrils. It appears to be sleeping, and their hope is to sneak past it quietly, slay the guards, and find Leto. Varric and Sebastian are taking the northern gate, while Hawke approaches the southern.

Slowly, cautiously, he aims a poison-tipped arrow at the first sentry. Move swiftly and stealthily, he reminds himself. Then he fires, instantly killing the guard. He's moving as he aims the next arrow and shoots the other guard before he can defend himself or raise an alarm.

Rushing to the gate, Hawke picks the lock and slips inside. Immediately he lobs a miasmic flask at the nearby guard and kills him with a poisoned arrow. Then he makes his way toward the stairs to the tower.

He's almost there.

=====

Sebastian can't help but feel suspicious that things are going a little too well and a little too easily as he and Varric dispose of the guards in their way. Considering how he's supposed to be the optimistic one of the group, that's more than worrisome, really.

"Varric, I've got a terrible feeling about this," he murmurs to his friend.

"You and me both, Choir Boy," Varric mutters out of the side of his mouth as he reloads Bianca.

For a brief moment, Sebastian's vision blurs, a red mist obscuring everything around him before it vanishes. But then, like puppets on strings, the slain guards rise to their feets and draw their weapons, staggering forward.

"Oh shit, we've got undead," Varric groans and starts trying to turn the closest walking corpse into a pincushion of crossbow bolts.

Sebastian fells a corpse, only for it to crawl on the ground back toward him and grab at his feet with a snarl. He beats it away, using his bow like a club, and delivers a swift kick to its skull. Killing the guards a second time is much more difficult, for their poisons, grenades, and smoke bombs have no effect on creatures without pain or need to breathe. It's an arduous process, and Sebastian can feel it starting to wear on him.

"Who are you, and what are you doing here?" inquires a cold, imperious voice. It's a woman, with short, dark hair and cruel, blue eyes, a glowing staff in her hand. "On second thought, don't answer that. I don't care."

Reaching out one hand, the sorceress sends a spell at Sebastian, and he's flung off his feet by an invisible force. His bow is knocked from his hand, and in his struggle to grab it back, he's undefended against the next blast of magic, which lifts him into the air and smashes him against the wall.

The pain is intense enough to make his head throb, and he's dazed to the point of seeing stars flashing. Vaguely he can hear Varric calling out to him as another wave of force magic crushes him, and a strangled cry escapes his lips.

Power swirling around her, the sorceress strides over to where her spell has him pinned to the floor, despite his efforts to break free. Pointing her staff at him, she declares, "When you're burning in the unquenchable flames of Hell, remember that it was Hadriana who sent you there, and despair."

Before she can complete her spell, however, she breaks off in a shriek of pain, a crossbow bolt embedded in her side. From across the room, Varric fires Bianca again, while standing over the last of the fallen corpses, and he says with a scoff, "Somebody's an over-dramatic bitch."

Sebastian struggles to his feet and downs an elfroot potion, swallowing quickly and dropping the empty glass vial to the ground. He seizes a dagger from a nearby corpse and throws it at Hadriana, but she deflects it with a spell. As he hurries toward where his bow has fallen, Hadriana pulls blood from her own wound and uses it to fuel a new spell, one which sounds and feels intrinsically evil to Sebastian. He can't suppress an involuntary shudder. His quiver is almost empty, so he starts pulling arrows out of corpses to fire at the sorceress, when suddenly the floor begins to tremble.

The scents of smoke and sulfur arise, and a host of demons appears.

"Maker give me strength," Sebastian prays, staggering back and aiming at the closest Shade, with its outstretched claws and tendrils of miasma curling around it. Nearby, Varric curses and reloads his crossbow again.

And then, to make matters worse, a ferocious roar which shakes the very foundations of the castle fills the air.

The dragon has awoken.

=====

Hawke breaks into every room of the tower. There's no one inside any of them, except for one unlucky guard whose throat Hawke quickly slits. His heart is racing, and adrenaline rushes through him as he searches for his prince.

 _Where is Leto?!_ He has to be here! He has to be! This cannot have all been for naught!

Then at last there is only room left, at the very top of the tower, with a heavy iron padlock upon the door. It takes Hawke longer than he's proud of to pick the lock, but he's impatient and rushed, even more so once he hears the dragon's roar. Eventually he succeeds, and he forces the door open and enters.

And there... There, curled on his side and chained to the floor, is Hawke's beloved prince. Hawke can scarcely breathe as he approaches and kneels down beside him. Leto's eyes are closed, long black lashes delicately brushing the top of his cheeks as he sleeps.

This is like a dream. After all this time, they're together again and about to get their happy ending.

"I'm here, Leto. It's me. It's your Garrett," says Hawke, his voice breaking at the end, overcome by emotions. His hands gently cradle Leto's face, brushing soft, silver hair aside.

Right. This is like the stories, where the valiant Prince Charming storms the dark castle, finds the sleeping princess, and uses true love's kiss to break the spell upon her.

So Hawke leans forward and presses his lips to Leto's, kissing him softly, and a pair of beautiful, blazing, green eyes flutter open.

That's when a shackled fist strikes Hawke's jaw.

"Get your hands off me!"


	4. Struggles and Toils

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Overflowing amounts of gratitude to all the wonderful people who've supported, kudos'd, and commented on this fic! I love you all! ^_^

Hawke is dazed for a moment, due to both the punch to his face and the shock that this is not going remotely like he'd hoped. Why isn't Leto happy to see him? Hawke had expected that Leto would weep tears of joy and fall into his arms and kiss him affectionately. Then Hawke would cradle him in his arms and carry him away from the tower and out of the enchanted forest. After that they would marry at last, and Seb would conveniently find somewhere else to be for a few days while Hawke and Leto make very passionate, very loud, very enthusiastic love to each other on every surface of the apartment, and everything would be wonderful. The end _._  
  
The reality is extremely and disappointingly different.  
  
Leto's blazing green eyes are wide with fear, watching Hawke warily as he scoots as far from Hawke as his chains will allow. Leto even pulls ineffectually at the length of chain tethering him to the floor in a futile attempt to break it and get further away from Hawke.   
  
There's no sign of relief or of any recognition, and that breaks Hawke's heart.   
  
_What have they done to him?_  
  
"Leto, it's me, Garrett," Hawke says, pleading. "I've come to take you away from here."  
  
"I'm not going anywhere with you," snaps Leto, recoiling when Hawke reaches toward him. "Don't touch me!"   
  
"I'm not going to hurt you." Hawke takes his set of lock picks back out, intending to free Leto from his restraints, but the prince continues struggling against him and wrenches his wrists away when Hawke tries to grab him. "Will you stop fighting me? Leto!"  
  
That's when Leto speaks the words which hurt Hawke like a punch to the chest:  
  
"Who is Leto?"  
  
=====  
  
Sebastian is praying desperately as he slashes at the advancing shades with a sword he'd seized from a slain guard. The demons have closed in too much for him to wield his longbow, but his skill with a sword is quite inferior to his skill in archery. Although he tries with all his might to fend them off, the shades continue to press forward.  
  
All the while he and Varric must dodge the blasts of magic Hadriana hurls at them. Slowly but surely they're being driven back to the gate, toward the waiting maw of the dragon.   
  
"When we get out of here, I'm going to kill Hawke for up and leaving us like this," grumbles Varric, aiming Bianca at a demon's head and firing.  
  
"That's quite tempting," Sebastian concurs sourly. He thrusts his blade through a shade's face and twists it as he rips it out. Black ichor splatters him, and he winces.  
  
The dragon roars again, impatient for its feast.  
  
"Hawke!" Sebastian yells, hoping that somehow his raised voice will carry up to his brother. "Hawke, help us!"  
  
Immediately he pays for that. Hadriana flings a Stonefist spell at him, which strikes him in the chest. All the air leaves Sebastian's lungs with a whoosh, and he barely dodges a demon's attack.   
  
"Dammit, Hawke!" Varric shouts. He hits a Shade with the side of Bianca and then fires.  
  
Hadriana pauses. "Is there another one of you?" she asks behind her barrier spell.  
  
"Um, no?" Sebastian lies poorly, still breathless.  
  
Hadriana's blue eyes flash. "Clever," she says in a cold, clipped tone. "Keep me distracted down here while your friend steals Danarius's pet. I don't think so. Better to go crush them both."  
  
Rage flares within Sebastian. He's going to make her and all the rest of them pay for treating Prince Leto this way -- in this utterly dehumanizing way. He just has to get past the demons and her spells and--  
  
No! She's turning and going up the tower stairs -- toward Hawke, toward Leto! Furiously, Sebastian tries carving a path through the demons, but there are too many of them, and he can't get even close to Hadriana before she blocks the way behind her with a wall of ice.   
  
"Hawke!" he calls hoarsely, hoping to warn his brother, but he knows it's of no use. Unfortunately, it's a moment in which his attention is not on the demons, and it costs him dearly. They seize upon him, their claws cutting into him. Despite his thrashing and swinging wildly at them with his sword, Sebastian is dragged out the gate, with Varric pushed out beside him.  
  
The gate swings shut behind the demons, and a low snarl is all the warning Sebastian has before streams of dragon's fire shoot toward them. Sebastian shoves Varric out of the way and is able to duck and roll just in time. Pulling his bow back out, Sebastian sends an arrow at the dragon's neck, and it embeds itself in green scales near the dragon's skull.   
  
This only serves to anger the draon, and it rises up on its wings with another ear-splitting roar.   
  
The demons swarm Sebastian and Varric, who retreat, sprinting toward the line of trees with the demons and dragon in pursuit.   
  
"This is a bad idea! These plants are flammable, in case you've forgotten!" Varric exclaims, turning back to fire a few bolts at an incoming Shade.   
  
"Then come up with a better idea. Right now all I have is: run!" Sebastian replies, swerving to avoid a Shade, twisting around, and slicing through it with his sword.  
  
The dragon's eyes are like hellfire as it swoops into the air and unleashes a scourge of flames toward the forest below it. Clouds of smoke obsure the air.  
  
"We're going to die..." moans Varric.  
  
=====  
  
"Please remember, Leto. I know I look a bit different what with the beard," Hawke says, gesturing to his face, "but it's me! You have to remember me! Please try!"  
  
But Leto seems disinclined to cooperate, neither with Hawke's pleas to remember the past nor with Hawke's attempts to pick the locks on his manacles. Leto keeps squirming out of Hawke's grasp despite being chained down, and Hawke really, _really_ does not want to overpower him. The very notion feels sickening to Hawke, as sickening as the sight of his beloved prince bound, beaten, and terrified.   
  
But even if Leto doesn't remember who Garrett is or what his own name is, why wouldn't he jump at the chance to escape this imprisonment? Hawke doesn't understand, and he doesn't know what to do or what to say. His planned romantic speech is clearly undesired, after all.   
  
Hawke gives up for now on trying to take hold of the manacles around Leto's ankles, wrists, and neck, and instead he gets to work picking the lock anchoring the chains to the floor. It's a tricky mechanism, trickier than it ought to be, and Hawke's stomach churns as he wonders why Leto's captor would do this to him. Once images come to mind, Hawke quickly forces himself not to think about it. He's almost gotten the lock open when the door swings open.  
  
Immediately Leto stills, his face turning ashen, and with his eyes lowered to the floor, he murmurs, so softly that Hawke barely hears him, "If you wish to live, run now, before Hadriana kills you."  
  
"Who?" Hawke turns from where he's crouched on the floor to see this Hadriana enter with a look of disdain and a magical staff gleaming brightly with power. "Are you the one who did this to him?" he asks her, venom seeping into his voice.  
  
Hadriana scoffs. "Don't be ridiculous! This state is far better than he deserves."   
  
Hawke bristles, his golden-brown eyes hardening into a murderous glare.   
  
Then Hadriana turns to Leto, whose chains clink lightly as he trembles under her scornful gaze. "So this attack is your fault, slave," she sneers. With a flick of her wrist, she seals the door shut with a thick coating of ice, trapping them all in together.   
  
"I had nothing to do with it," Leto asserts, his fingers curling into fists, but he doesn't dare look up at her.  
  
Hawke, however, has heard more than enough, and he throws a smoke bomb, using the thick smokescreen to stealth behind Hadriana. He can overheard Leto coughing from inhaling the dark smoke, and he makes a mental note to add this to the long list of things he needs to apologize to Leto for once this is over. Unsheathing his daggers as soundlessly as possible, he moves to stab Hadriana, but she's obviously expecting an attack, for she twirls her staff around to block and parry his blades.   
  
"Go on. Keep fighting," she taunts. "The more you fight back, the more he's going to pay for it later."  
  
Out of the corner of his eye, Hawke discerns a shudder running through Leto, and so Hawke flashes Hadriana a humorless grin. "I'd enjoy killing you slowly, but sadly I lack the time."  
  
Then he headbutts Hadriana sharply, causing her to stumble back a step, and he presses his advantage to sink his twin daggers into her abdomen. Face contorted in pain, Hadriana manages to throw an arcane bolt at him, which hurts like hell, but the poison coating on Hawke's blades works quickly.   
  
Shoving his daggers back into their sheathes, Hawke turns back to Leto, who's staring at Hadriana's fallen body in horror. Before Hawke can speak, he becomes aware of shouts from outside, and he peers out the glassless window to discover the dragon flying after Sebastian and Varric, who are running in zigzags in order to try to evade the dragon's flames as well as the pursuing demons. Hawke feels a stab of guilt upon the realization that he abandoned his friends to fight for their lives without him.   
  
If he can time this just right...  
  
Kneeling back down beside Leto, he says, "You and I desperately need to talk, but we'll have to do it later. Right now I need to save my friends."  
  
"Then go, and leave me be."  
  
"Yeah, no, can't do that. Sorry, love."   
  
Hawke finishes untethering Leto and lunges to grapple him. Crying out in protest, Leto thrashes and squirms, trying to break free, but he's still chained, and Hawke holds him fast.   
  
This isn't _at all_ how he'd wanted to hold his long-lost prince.   
  
Carefully with one hand, so as not to loosen his hold on Leto, Hawke removes his rope and attached grappling hook from his belt and secures the hook. Then, slinging his struggling, unwilling rescuee over his shoulder like a very handsome and very upset sack of flour, Hawke takes the rope and jumps out the window, rappelling down the tower.  
  
"What the **_hell_** are you doing?!" Leto all but screams, his struggles to escape Hawke's grasp momentarily forgotten from sheer shock. This turns into an actual scream as Hawke lets go of the rope and kicks off the stone of the tower to jump again, soaring through the air to land nimbly atop the dragon's head.   
  
The dragon roars, but it turns into a roar of pain when Hawke stabs a dagger into its vulnerable eye, driving the blade deeper and deeper until it crunches into the dragon's brain. Leto curses loudly as the dragon drops mid-flight, and Hawke sheathes the knife before sliding down the dragon's long neck and toppling to the ground. He rolls them out of the way, which breaks his hold on Leto but saves them from being crushed by the dragon's corpse.  
  
"Holy shit, that was awesome," says Hawke with a laugh. He sits up to see Sebastian and Varric across the grounds sill battling the remaining handful of Shades. Looking Hawke's way, all color drains from Sebastian's face at the sight of Leto.   
  
Leto, Hawke suddenly realizes, is crawling toward one of the castle gates, squirming across the ground like a worm, since he's unable to stand and run with his wrists and ankles still bound.   
  
"Wait! Stop!" Hawke practically throws himself atop the prince, who kicks out with his shackled feet and strikes Hawke's gut. "Oof!"  
  
"Let me go!" cries Leto, struggling with greater effort as Hawke bodily pins him down.   
  
"Can we just calm down for a moment?" says Hawke. "Please?"  
  
"I don't know what bargain you desire of my master, but he _will_ kill you for this. If you release me, I will say nothing of your involvement, and you may yet keep your life," Leto tells him, eventually stilling beneath Hawke. He meets Hawke's gaze with keen green eyes, sharp with intelligence and defiance. "It is the only way for us both to make it out of this with as little torture as necessary."   
  
A chill runs through Hawke at the way Leto says the word _torture_ , as if that is an inevitable outcome for him.  
  
"What are you talking about, Leto?"   
  
"Why do you keep calling me that?" he responds in genuine confusion. "And for what purpose did you capture me, if not to use me against my master?"  
  
The taste of bile rises in Hawke's mouth at the word _master_. Then Leto's other words sink in. "Capture? Maker, I'm not kidnapping you! I'm _rescuing_ you!"   
  
Leto blinks in disbelief. "Why?"  
  
"Because I love you!" Hawke cries, louder and more fervent than he meant to.  
  
Leto only stares at him. "What?"  
  
It hurts more than he'd thought possible for him to say _"I love you"_ and be met with only incredulity.  
  
"Look, let me take these chains off you, to prove that I mean you no harm, and then we can get out of here and talk things out, alright, Let-- Er, what do you want to be called?" Hawke tries to make his tone sound as reasonable as he can manage.   
  
"...Fenris. My name is Fenris," answers Leto-- Fenris, that is. Fenris continues to stare openly at Hawke.  
  
"Alright then, Fenris."   
  
Hawke gives him a charming smile meant to disarm him and also dissuade him from resisting again, and then Hawke concentrates on unlocking Fenris's manacles, removing each of them in turn, which reveals more of those strange silver markings upon Leto's-- Fenris's skin, amidst abrasions and bruises where the metal cut into him.   
  
Fenris takes a series of deep breaths when the heavy collar is removed from his throat. He inhales as if he's never been able to inhale fresh air before.   
  
Then, with a flash of silver light, he punches Hawke again, slides out from beneath Hawke as if Hawke were weightless, and takes off running for the trees.  
  
Well, fuck. Hawke hastens after him with a shout.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These two really need to sit down and talk things out. If only something were to happen that would force them to stay still and actually communicate... XD


	5. Escape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After all the action-packed chapters, here's one that's heavy on the dialogue, but hey, communication seriously needs to happen. Thank you to everyone who's supported this fic! <3

Fenris's heart thunders so loudly that it nearly drowns out all other sounds as he runs through the forest. He isn't running in any particular direction, just **away** \-- whatever he can do to evade his delusion-spouting captor.

One would think that by now Fenris would be used to a life of misery, yet it seems fate continues to devise ever greater cruelties befall him. He wished for escape, a chance to flee, and now that he has it, he knows without the slightest bit of doubt that his only choice is to go back.

Regardless of whether Fenris left the tower willingly or not (and it was absolutely _not_ willingly; he'd been completely convinced he was going to die for a minute there), Danarius _will_ make him pay for it. If Danarius returns to the castle before Fenris does, then the longer it takes for him to track Fenris down, the more Fenris will suffer for it.

And Hadriana's death in particular means inescapable punishment.

So he must go back and beg for mercy, but first he has to avoid being recaptured by that bizarre stranger. What did he call himself again? Garrett Hawke. _Hmm._ No, that name is altogether unfamiliar to Fenris.

"Leto! I mean Fenris! Come back, Fenris!" he can hear the man himself call out, his voice startling a trio of crows, who take off screeching through the canopy of branches.

Fenris quickens his pace, darting off in a different direction. He must get away! In his haste he carelessly trips over an outlying, obstructing tree root and stumbles into a sticky mess of webs. Giant spiders, Fenris realizes with a jolt of fear. This forest is not safe. He must get back to the tower quickly. Better to face his master than to find death here, or to be taken away to whatever fate his kidnapper has in store for him.

He can hear a shifting in the branches above and glances up to see a cluster of giant spiders descending toward him. Far too many legs and glittering eyes... He hurries away, shuddering, and the spiders give chase. If only he'd managed to grab a weapon or some kind of armor to protect himself or indeed any kind of more durable clothing than the thin, gossamer garments he's currently wearing.

At least Hawke unbound Fenris. He must not have known... But then why try to take him in the first place? Nothing about this makes any sense.

More spiderwebs block Fenris's path, and it occurs to him that the pursuing spiders may be herding him into a trap. Changing directions yet again, stumbling over the underbrush, he catches sight of Hawke, who spots him immediately and calls out to him.

"Fenris, wait! We need to talk!"

"No!" is Fenris's response, now trying to evade both Hawke and a group of bloodthirsty giant spiders. _(At least the spiders only want to kill him.)_ But Hawke has almost caught up to him and reaches out to seize his arm. Fenris pulls away from him. "Let me go!"

"You need to listen to me!" Hawke's words are a command, but his tone is an anxious plea. Then he gasps. "Leto, look out!"

He jumps in front of Fenris, shoving him out of the way as the spiders pounce. Hawke is crushed to the ground beneath the spiders with a cry, and he struggles to fight back, struggles to draw his daggers.

Fenris backs away and turns to flee. This is his chance to slip away and escape both the monsters of the forest and his captor. Let the spiders have their meal while he returns.

And yet he can't.

For some inexplicable reason, Fenris's chest clenches with horror. Some part of him _cannot bear_ to leave this man to die.

He doesn't understand it at all, but he just can't.

With the spellwoven chains removed, Fenris is unbound in more ways than one. Activating his lyrium brands, silver-blue light blazes forth as he turns and hurls himself toward the spiders. Releasing a pulse of energy that sends the spiders shrieking, Fenris reaches down to grab Hawke's pair of daggers and slashes at the spiders. Bluish-black blood sprays through the air as Fenris slices through them. He phases most of his body to avoid their attacks as they bite at him, but he keeps the daggers solid as he continues to cut through them.

It hurts incredibly, using the markings to this extent, especially after this power was bound for so long, and Fenris is soon exhausted. Luckily, after he kills three of the spiders, the others scurry away, and his lyrium glow fades.

But Fenris is not yet out of danger. Daggers still in hand, Fenris turns toward Hawke in a defensive position. Hawke is still on the ground, scratched and bleeding, but he's alive, and he raises himself to a sitting position, all the while gaping at Fenris in awe.

"You saved me..." says Hawke, his voice reverent as in prayer. There is so much intensity of emotion written on his face that Fenris finds it hard to hold his gaze.

"You wish to talk? We'll talk," says Fenris. The words do not come out as coldly as he'd intended, and he blames that bewildering part of himself which needed to save this man. "Answer my questions, and then I'm leaving."

"I'll tell you anything you want to know," Hawke says. He wisely keeps his hands where Fenris can see them and does not attempt to stand or approach Fenris.

"Who are you?"

"My name is Garrett Hawke. We grew up together, you, me, and our friend Seb. You were a prince, and we were your knights, and your name was Leto. You and I, we were childhood sweethearts. I vowed to marry you. You gave me this ribbon -- this right here! -- the night of our engagement. I came here to save you. You have to believe me, Fenris!"

Fenris watches for any sign of deception, but Hawke appears to thoroughly believe this ridiculousness. Fenris scoffs. "I'm not a prince; I'm Master Danarius's property."

"You are **_not_** property!" Hawke protests, his voice laced with vehemence.

"And yet you came to steal me for yourself," Fenris says dryly.

Hawke looks nauseated at that. "No, never! I'd never do that to do! Even if you don't remember me, I just want to help you."

"Indeed? Then answer me this: if I were this prince you claim to love -- and I'm not saying that I am -- then why did you not come for me before? I've been his slave for so many years."

And that is the part of all of this which especially makes everything else so unbelievable. It's been about a decade since the lyrium ritual which caused him to lose his memories from the sheer pain of it, a decade of pain and humiliation at Danarius's feet or in his bed, and he knows he was a slave before the ritual because it felt so familiar, customary even, to serve Danarius. It's possible that Fenris was once something or someone else before being made a slave, but a prince with a lover who abandoned him for that long? And what kind of lover would leave him to endure such a life? It's just not believable.

"Because I thought you were dead," Hawke answers, his voice breaking. Sorrow wells in his eyes, and that same unfathomable part of Fenris which needed to save him hurts to see Hawke in pain. "I've mourned you every day. But I swear by the Maker, if I had known where you were, no force on this earth could have kept me from you."

Hawke's expression hardens, firm and determined, and as difficult as it is to accept these words at face value, Fenris finds himself believing this oath.

But none of that matters. Regardless of whatever happened in the past, real or not, Fenris is still currently a slave, and he belongs to his master no matter what Hawke says.

Fenris shakes his head and lowers the daggers to his sides. "The man you love is dead. I am not he, and I can't go with you."

Hawke couldn't look more heartbroken if Fenris had actually reached inside his chest and crushed his heart, and he scrambles to his feet. "I can't lose you, not again, not after all this time!"

Fenris takes a step back and shake his head again. "I am not yours, to keep or to lose," he murmurs.

"Please," Hawke begs.

New voices reach them through the trees.

"Hawke!"

"Garrett, where are you?"

"Over here, Seb!" Hawke yells in response. Fenris tenses, his grip on the daggers tightening, and Hawke turns back to him, with golden eyes soft and sad and so desperate. "Please come home with us."

Hawke's companions find them then: a dwarf displaying excessive chest hair and a tall, handsome man with russet hair and eyes like clear blue skies. These eyes are shining when he sees Fenris, and he sprints over to Fenris and flings his arms around him in a warm embrace.

"It's you! It's really you!" he exclaims.

Fenris stiffens, both from shock and from pain; for his markings are sensitive from earlier use, and his back is still sore from Danarius's most recent punishment. Yet at the same time, there's something eerily familiar about the flash of reddish-brown hair which Fenris can't quite seem to pinpoint...

"He doesn't remember us, Sebastian," Hawke says as Sebastian, sensing Fenris's obvious discomfort, withdraws. For a moment Sebastian appears as crushed and heartbroken as Hawke, but then his expression smooths into a pleasant smile.

"My name is Sebastian Vael, and this is our friend Varric Tethras. I assume you've already become acquainted with Garrett," he says with a gallant bow.

"Fenris."

"A very great pleasure to meet you, Fenris," says Sebastian. It's unsettling to be addressed this way, with so much respect and cordiality, as if he were a person and not a thing, and Fenris feels his cheeks blushing.

"Now that we're all together, let's make camp for the night. It's getting late; we're exhausted; and also _someone_ needs to apologize for being an asshole, Hawke," says Varric with a pointed look.

"Sorry, Varric," Hawke grumbles.

"I'm not going with you," Fenris objects, mentally preparing himself to fight all three of them. Good thing he still has the stolen daggers.

"Wait, what?" exclaims Varric, incredulous. "After everything we went through to get you?"

"Clearly this discussion needs to be had when everyone is less agitated," Sebastian interjects calmly. "Fenris, why don't you rest with us tonight? It's too dangerous to wander the forest alone at night, after all, and then in the morning we can all talk about this reasonably. No one will force you to accompany us, but we're certainly not willing to abandon you to danger. What do you say?"

"I..." Every minute Fenris delays will mean another minute of punishment, and despite Sebastian's courteous speech, Fenris strongly suspects that if he tries to run, Hawke will attempt to deter him yet again. Perhaps a better plan would be to sneak away during the night. "Fine."

"Really?" asks Hawke in obvious relief.

"It seems I have no other choice," Fenris says, and Hawke's expression switches back to heartbroken. So does Sebastian's.

=====

They set up camp a bit away from the spider corpses. Keeping silent, Fenris eyes the others warily and makes note of each of their weapons and injuries, just in case he does have to fight to escape them. Varric seems to have caught on to what he's doing and regards him suspiciously. Fenris quickly averts his gaze.

"Fenris, you can have my tent tonight," says Sebastian. "Hawke and I will share his."

"Or Fenris can share with me!" Hawke interrupts, and Fenris immediately tenses. "We have so much to talk about."

Sebastian glares at Hawke.

"Or talking can come later," Hawke relents. "Whatever Fenris feels comfortable with."

"Thank you for the tent," Fenris says to Sebastian, unable to look in Hawke's direction at present.

Sebastian smiles kindly. "If you need anything, my friend, don't hesitate to ask."

Fenris wonders what strings are attached to this offer as he thanks him again.

After refusing the food they offer him, Fenris retires to his tent earlier than the others, claiming exhaustion, which is true, but really he can't stand the way they're watching him. Especially Hawke, with those big, mournful eyes, staring at him as if he could transform Fenris into his Prince Leto through sheer willpower.

Now he just needs to wait for the right moment to run and pray he arrives at the tower before Danarius does. He curls up on his side and tries to block out the sounds of Sebastian and Varric berating Hawke -- _("Can't you see how overwhelmed he is, Garrett?!")_ \-- as he squeezes his eyes shut.

=====

He does not let himself sleep, for he knows that if he sleeps, he will inevitably have another nightmare and cry out, which will wake the others, which will ruin his plan. Instead he waits until the conversation/argument dies down, Hawke and Varric going to their own tents. Then, Fenris pulls open the flap of his tent just a sliver, just enough to keep an eye on Sebastian on the first watch. (They wisely did not ask Fenris to take a shift on watch.)

When Sebastian gets up to gather more wood for the fire, Fenris has his chance. As quietly and cautiously as he can, he crawls out of the tent and stands, taking a careful step away from the campsite and toward where he belongs--

"It's rather chilly tonight, isn't it?"

Fenris turns to see Sebastian setting down an armful of fallen branches beside the campfire. As he begins tending the fire, he gives Fenris a perceptive look.

"Come sit down and warm yourself," Sebastian says. _Suggestion or command?_

"Don't try to stop me," Fenris warns him. "I must return to my master."

"I'm not going to stop you," says Sebastian candidly, "but I would like a word before you go."

His thin clothing doing nothing to keep out the cold night air, Fenris shivers as he obeys, sitting down beside Sebastian. He keeps his eyes locked on Sebastian's weapons, anticipating an attack, but instead Sebastian removes his cloak and wraps it around Fenris's shoulders. The cloak is fur-lined and well made and succeeds in warming Fenris even faster than the fire.

"I suppose the others and I haven't given any reason to trust us," Sebastian sighs.

"Not particularly," Fenris agrees dryly.

"I apologize for that. Your rescue did not go as intended, to say the least, and I must apologize on Hawke's behalf. He can be rather overbearing," says Sebastian with a wince.

Fenris does not accept the apologies. Why should he with the inevitable pain they've brought down upon him?

"Am I your prisoner?" he asks bluntly.

"No, definitely not."

"Then I'm free to leave, regardless of your worthless apologies." The irony leaves a bitter taste in Fenris's mouth: free to go back to his cage.

"Worthless or not, I still owe you an apology. Many of them, in fact. I'm sorry we didn't come to save you sooner. Neither of us knew, but... it still wasn't right that we left you." Sebastian's regret is so deep and acute as to be nearly palpable, and it makes Fenris uncomfortable to hear. "I can't imagine what you've been through."

"No. You can't," Fenris interrupts icily.

"But it should never have happened to you. I should have been there to help you."

"Why? Because I'm supposedly a prince, so I deserve a better lot in life?" mutters Fenris darkly.

Sebastian gives him an intense look and says, "Because you're a person, you deserve better."

Fenris can't bring himself to respond to that.

Sebastian reaches forward and takes Fenris's hand, which startles Fenris, but Sebastian's touch is gentle and reassuring. "I wish you would let Garrett and me help you. You don't have to face this alone. I failed you, but I swear to you that I will not fail again," Sebastian declares seriously and formally, his sky-blue eyes burning with conviction. "I will protect you with my very life."

Fenris is suddenly struck with a vision of ripping Sebastian's heart from his chest, those brilliant eyes wide with shock and betrayal before his corpse falls to the ground, and it's too much. It's all too much. When Danarius comes for him -- and he **_will_ ** come for him -- he will force Fenris to kill these new ~~friends~~ companions.

And Fenris would rather receive no kindness at all than be made to destroy anyone else who's this kind to him.

Fenris rips his hand out of Sebastian's grasp and says bitterly, "If you mean to keep such an oath, then you will pay for it with your life. You cannot protect me from him. You can't fight him. I can't escape him. Trying will only make things worse."

Lowering his head, Sebastian considers his words before responding, "All I ask is that you give us a chance. You're worth fighting for, Fenris."

"You don't even know me," Fenris scoffs.

"Perhaps not, but it remains the truth," says Sebastian, flashing him that kind smile again. "At least think about it until the morning. I will respect whatever you decide."

"Very well." Fenris rises and removes Sebastian's cloak from his shoulders, holding it out to Sebastian. He doesn't want to hear any more tonight.

"Keep it, please," Sebastian insists, refusing to take the cloak back. As Fenris replaces it and heads back to his tent, Sebastian calls out, "Good night, Fenris. Sleep well."

But Fenris doesn't sleep well. He feels even more confused and overwhelmed than he did earlier, and he doesn't fall asleep so much as pass out from exhaustion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Want to hear something heartbreaking? When Prince Leto was first captured, he did wait for Seb and Garrett to come rescue him, desperately holding onto hope for nearly a year, until Danarius finally broke him.


End file.
